Thursday, August 26, 2010

Waiting to Die

For you, life became flat
like a picture of nothing. . .
                no dimension
                                  no joy
only the darkness ahead
and there were never any choices          
         no way out of your tunnel

its deep and dark
               and lonely in there. . .
                                                          you have no tale to tell           
     to convince the earth to move. . .                
it lays on you like a heavy blanket
smothering you. . . and there is
                                                 no way to dig
to find your way out of your prison
except with your bare and bloodied hands
you use them
                                    to scrape against
the biting earth . . . its acids burn deep
                                            deep holes into your being

what are you doing -- peeling away the dirt
grain by grain
with that fine feather?
you have plucked it from
your very own wings
                       can't                       fly …………..

why then don't
you just wait to die?

buried in your very own hell
you followed yourself there
you know where you are

           your shroud . . .
wrap around yourself                  
those useless wings. . .
                                    furl them
around your bones
and someday                      
when they find you                     
they will see that you once flew. . .

                        Save your tears. . .
                  they will water
                          a thousand gardens
                          for a thousand years
don't waste them on yourself

save your voice
for if you cry
they will not come
                                             instead. . .
they will turn to flee
they will run                           
as your pain grows
                                 like a flame
it burns whole worlds

and know this
that the people flee from you

for you have become a monster
in their eyes
do you see yourself?
in their eyes ...........?

you are no angel. . .
you are but a lost soul
       like they,
you have wings

yet you cannot fly . . .


Just a quick explanation about this poem: The angel represents the USA .. . . and the feather represents the pitiful attempts this country makes at helping the environment and the world in general. As a powerful country we owe the world a lot more and as a people, who are basically takers and users . . .. we owe it to our children and future generations who will reside on this home planet to take better care of it and respond to its needs . . . and stop being so greedy.  OK .. .. I am about to get on a soapbox here and I don't have the time. So this is the gist of the poem . . . please understand it wasn't a depressed poem about me . . .. it was an angry poem about a country.

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